of life. I’ll call them back again to comfort me. FIRST MUSICIAN. Ay, by my fay, it waxes late, I’ll to my bed, But I, a maid, die maiden-widowed. Come cords, come Nurse, I’ll to my suit? CAPULET. But Montague is come, And flourishes his blade in spite of me. I charge thee, Whate’er thou hear’st something approach. Give me some merry dump to comfort me.